


Unlikely Alliance: Other Scenes

by mgsmurf



Series: Military Modern AU Stories [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Dystopia, F/M, Military, Near Future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-11-08 09:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20833049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mgsmurf/pseuds/mgsmurf
Summary: AU scenes of JB in a military near future modern world. Goes with the other stories in the same world (now grouped in a series).Sometimes the person you think is your enemy becomes your ally and even more.





	1. Freaking Weather

The rain pelted and pounded. The wind pushed at the almost collapsing walls of the old abandoned farmhouse they'd found. Wood creaked and sprays of water rushed in with each gust of wind. Still it was something to get them out of the storm. Water flooded in making thick mud at their feet. Through the broken pains of a window, the trees danced and whirled, puddles sparkled and a sheer of rain covered the view of the Blueridge mountains beyond. 

Brienne sat gently upon a partly rusted iron chair. She was drenched to the bone, shivering, jaw clenched to prevent her teeth from chattering. The fire before her in the remains of the fireplace sputtered as it fought the dribbling rain that came from above. 

“We could find a town, a motel. Warm up. Dry off.” Jaime Lannister lounged upon a wooden bench, wrists in cuffs, his threadbare, dirty uniform soaked upon his thin, wasted frame. His wet hair hung to his shoulders and water dripped from his thick beard. Yet, drenched and captive, he still looked casual, gorgeous. 

Brienne scowled at him. It had been raining for days, remnants of a record-breaking and destructive hurricane from the coast. She was as tired of being wet and cold as he. A bed, four walls, it sounded wonderful, but to rent a room would surely get them caught and she had promised Senator Catelyn to take Lannister to Austin in exchange for her daughters. 

“The rain will eventually stop,” she answered. “We'll dry off then.” She hoped it be be truth soon, as the wind howled and a shiver shook her shoulders. 

“And what if I catch a cold and my death before then?” He raised an eyebrow. While his words were steady and he somehow limited his shivering, she knew he was not as strong as he seemed, a year in a Stark prison with rough treatment had weakened him. 

She tightened her lips, glared over at him. He gave her a smirk, a twinkle in his green eyes. Because what would she do if the cold, wet and exertion caused him to catch cold. Bringing him to a doctor for medicine would be an even greater risk. 

Brienne rose and crossed to the fire, her eyes on Lannister. “Then we'll just have to warm up and dry off here.” It was the first real roof of any sort they had seen in a week of travel, most of that in the rain. If only she could get the fire going better. She looked around for dry wood and finally had to break some from an inside wall. Gently she fed the fire until it was hot enough to counter the rain coming down the crumbled chimney. 

And it was glorious. At least still wet it was the first time in days she had been warm, truly warm. “Well, move closer then,” she called over her shoulder to Lannister. He tightened his lips, narrowed his eyes, but still rose to come closer to the fire. He stood for a moment and appeared as if his legs might give out on him, before he ended up kneeling beside her. He gave a small sigh at the warmth. 

Leaving him to warm up, Brienne took out her cookware and the last of her cans of provisions. The baked beans were wonderful. Afterwards they sat together by the fire, bellies full, skin warm and clothing almost dry. The storm still railed outside, yet Brienne did not care so much anymore. 

Lannister leaned back against the side of the hearth, his legs spread out and crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed as much as possible in shackles. He looked a content lion, a god. 

His brow furrowed, and Brienne almost asked 'What?' before he spoke, “Thank you.” His brilliant green eyes held such appraisal that Brienne dipped her head, because what did she care for the appraisal of this cold-blooded honor-less man?


	2. New Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new spring, a second chance, one Jaime means to do right by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JB Week madness, comes with a second drabble.

Jaime had thought he was done with the cold when he’d left the high plains, went home to Texas. But what did Texas hold for him now? Tommen, the last of his children with Cersei, was dead, the Lannister corporation was mostly disbanded, and Tyrion was off in DC making a ‘brave new world’. Jaime’d managed to close out the dealing with Lannister employees in Austin. Afterwards, when Brienne had asked him to go home to Maine with her… Where else did he have to go? She was his home? She was his anchor? What other answer would he have given but ‘yes’?

One of the twins cried, a soft, tiny sound as small as the newborn making it. “I’ll get her.” Jaime gave Brienne a kiss on her cheek, allowed her to roll back over to sleep. She’d just put the other twin Galwyn down to sleep after a fed. 

Joanna jerkily kicked and beat her tiny fists as he changed her diaper and zipped back up her sleeper. So impossibly light in his arm and good hand as he jostled her to quiet her cries. He trod down the creaking stairs and his slippers shuffled on the hardwood floors. He shrugged deeper into his robe, wrapped a bit around Joanna. He flipped on the coffee maker, luckily already set up, as he was still clumsy with his bad hand and didn’t trust himself to hold the twins with it either. The last time he’d risen at 0500 and thought the house possibly respectable had been his days with the Lannister forces. The glimmer of early dawn hadn’t even quite begun yet.

Frost still clung to the window, where outside snow lingered in shaded places. ‘I’d only agree to another winter like this for you,’ he’d said that first snow storm, one of too many, until he’d broken down and bought a snowblower to save his back and hand, and snow boots and gear from Lands End. 

Yet, spring already fought through the chill. A few crocuses peeked above ground in the floor bed, trees had pale green buds. Warmer weather would come, flowers would bloom and birds would nest, nature in all its glory would reawaken again. 

Joanna mewed in his arm and settled closer to his warmth, curled in a little ball between his elbow and wrist. A week had not been enough time to get used to the idea that she and her brother were his and Brienne’s, that they – mostly Brienne – had created these two tiny, perfect new beings. A spring of their own, a new beginning, a new chance at a life they had both thought unavailable to them. For some reason the gods had gifted him a second chance and it scared him shitless. He loved them all too much, impossibly so, even his love for Brienne had grown in the last week. He had failed too many before, this new family, the children fate had gifted as truly his, he sure as hell was gonna try with all his might not to fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not claim to actually know what a New England winter is really like. While I've spend a few winters in snowy places, it was not actually there.


	3. Heat Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime wiped the sweat from his brow, blinked it out of his eyes. Damn the Texas heat mid July, he thought.
> 
> Retelling of the Bronn and Jaime training scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry limited JB in this part.

Jaime wiped the sweat from his brow, blinked it out of his eyes. It coated him, his shirt drenched, his hair hanging wet with it. Damn the Texas heat mid July, he thought.

“Get up ya miserable fuckin’ cunt,” boomed Bronn’s voice. Rough streets of NYC were thick in his accent. The aged mercenary turned Tyrion’s personal bodyguard was as rough as his accent, age lines and scars on his face, a thinning hair line and a foul mouth. 

Jaime grimaced as he shoved himself back to his feet. He used to be good at this, hand to hand fighting. Mind not as good as he’d been with a sniping rifle or pistol, but it had been a long time since he’d hit the ground this many times. 

The sun beat down overhead blazing hot. At least Bronn dripped with as much sweat as himself, as he ranted on about the heat and Texans being crazy for living in it. Jaime took the opportunity to strike first, but his moves were all wrong, awkward, his injured hand still in a stabilizing cast no help, his left not strong or coordinated enough. Bronn blocked his hits with ease and kicked out his leg behind Jaime’s. Legs taken from beneath him, Jaime crashed down upon his back. 

“Not a fair move,” Jaime said as Bronn stood above him dripping sweat, cracking a cocky shit-eating grin.

“Your days of fighting fuckin’ fair are done you golden fuckin’ bastard.” Bronn reached down a hand and helped Jaime heave his sore body to his feet. 

Wordlessly they took a break, the electrolyte drink cool and tangy on Jaime’s tongue. They stood in a small shelter of metal, no other shade in the open grounds of the training yards. At least it blocked out a bit of the brilliant sun if little of the actual heat. Heat rose in visible waves from the track around the yellowed grass of the training yard. 

“Fuckin’ global warmin’,” Bronn commented before he downed the last of his drink. 

It was never going to be like it was. Surgeries and physical therapy, and still his hand would never be what it had been, and not him either. This was the new him, an almost cripple, a disabled vet, a former prisoner of war, and Jaime fuckin’ Lannister – as Bronn would have called him – wanted nothing to do with it. Part of him wished he hadn’t come back, that the hills of Applachian and the rough men within it had taken him. Then, her voice echoed in his head, steady clipped yankee words, chiding him for giving up so easy, telling him to live. Damn, Brienne and her silly faith in his. 

“Stop yar fuckin’ moppin’,” Bronn said, wiping sweat off his brow as he crossed the yard to start fighting again. “Not gonna get any better doing that.”

Jaime frowned, finished off his drink and pushed himself up with his good hand. ‘Cause, Bronn might be an ass, but he was correct. Brienne had helped him live for a reason, and he wanted to prove her faith in him true.


	4. Vacation: Sorta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three retelling of scenes. Jaime traveling to Dorne, Brienne finding out about Arya from Hotpie and Tarthgasm (of a sort). 
> 
> Jaime can't shake Brienne from his thoughts, even as he tried to get back on Cersei's good side. Brienne makes a discovery in her search for Catelyn's daughters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna admit this was quickly written and edited to get it up today.

“Hate fuckin’ flyin’.” Bronn practically threw his carry-on into the empty seat at the bar. He sat down, downed Jaime’s whiskey and called over the bartender to order another two. 

Jaime pinched his lips and let Bronn ramble on about layovers and delays and how he was only here to help Jaime out. They were off to return Myrcella from Paris and whatever things the Martells may be planning as revenge against the Lannisters with her. The note Cersei had received had not been a ransom exactly, but worrying enough that Myrcella would be best back home in Texas. 

“I am certain Cersei thanks you for the favor you’re doing her to make sure my dear niece is back safe and sound.” Jaime sipped his whiskey, cheap and not cold enough. 

“Is she yer niece if Cersei is your step-sister?” Bronn cocked his head, poked a finger at Jaime. “Don’t that make her your step-niece. And best not get me started on the cold cunt that Cersei Lannister fuckin’ Baratheon is.”

Jaime tightened his lips. Myrcella was his daughter, biologically, not that he could speak that, especially not here in the Boston airport. “Fine, step-niece,” he replied too late. 

Bronn raised an eyebrow, paused with his glass inches from his mouth. “If you say so, Colonel Lannister.”

“I do.” Jaime returned his gaze to his glass and then the window. Planes taxied and golf carts with trailers drove around luggage. Back in Texas summer was in full swing, the heat oppressive and unrelenting. Here, the day looked sunny and warm, rather nice. 

The bartender chatted up a few of the waitresses, 10 o’clock was not really a reasonable hour to be drinking, unless you’re flying with a cunt like Bronn. One of them must have been from farther north, because her accent was more New England than Boston, reminding him of Brienne. Not that too much these days didn’t remind him of the tall, blonde Major, all while he did errands for Cersei to get back in her good favors. Just what was Brienne doing, and how was her tracking of the Stark girls going?

#

Brienne frowned at the plate of half eaten greasy food. She scrolled through the map on her tablet beside it. “Are you certain, Podrick, about the Stark girls and California?”

Pod looked up from where he hunched over finishing up his pancakes. He nodded as he swallowed and drank down some orange juice. He couldn’t have been much more than sixteen, green and young, although not as innocent as he seemed. 

“Mr. Tyrion had me learn the states and their alliances.” He glanced about the dinner full of morning business. Clanking dishes and silverware sounded surrounded by chatter. Pod leaned closer, and said quieter, “Their aunt was married to the Governor of California. It’s the only living family they have, save their half brother on the lines.” His accent sounded southern and a bit uneducated, with a stray brown strand of hair standing up he looked what one might call a hick. Looks were sometimes deceiving. 

Brienne nodded, took a sip of coffee. She had sometime heard of Senator Catelyn’s sister, but had not really thought they were close. Having no family save her father she did not always think how many found safety in such. “Well, a few more good days ride and we should be there.” 

They had mostly stuck to the back highways and small towns as they wandered their way through west Texas and now New Mexico. They had to hope that Sansa traveled by car too, but she very well could have flown. Although all Brienne calls of inquiry to airlines had found no one of her name having done so. Hopefully she had not gone to Mexico. 

A waitress other than the one who they’d ordered food from came by to top off their coffee. “Excuse me,” Brienne said, “you haven’t perhaps seen this girl, possibly with an older, overweight man?” She presented her always handy photo of Sansa she had printed, it had to be at least a year old now. A girl more beautiful than Senator Catelyn had been smiled out of it, with the blue eyes of her mother and long red hair. The waitress did take a look, shook her head and moved on with the hot coffee pot. 

Brienne had made it a point to ask about Sansa wherever they had been: dinners, restaurants, filling stations, convenience stores, seedy motels. Yet, it had yielded no results. Not a one seemed to recognize Sansa Stark, either she had not traveled this way, or had not traveled by these means. 

Podrick finally finished his meal, Brienne paid, given the amount that Jaime Lannister had supplied them they still had enough cash to last a few more weeks, perhaps more if they limited their expenses.

“You shouldn’t go showing her picture all around,” Podrick said as he helped her empty their few belongs from the motel across from the dinner into the jeep Jaime had provided them. ‘Clean plates,’ he had said when giving it to her. 

“How else will we find her except asking?” Brienne lifted her chin. 

“Other people are lookin’ for her too.” Podrick frowned. “And ya never know who might be listenin’ in,” he whispered.

Brienne blink down at him as she placed her worn duffle in the backseat. Perhaps he had a point. Yet, everything else had led to no leads or trail of either of Catelyn’s daughters. She did not mean to go back to Jaime and admit she had failed, worst to think she had failed the senator.

As they loaded the last into the jeep, a portly man approached. Well, more a teen, Brienne realized as he got closer, with dark curly hair and a pimply round face. He wore a cooks apron. 

“Heard ya talkin’ about the Starks,” he said. Wary eyes darted between them, his hands worked in the strings of his apron. 

“Yes?” Brienne cocked her head. Beside her Podrick’s stance stiffened, although he did not yet reach for the pistol hidden under his loose shirt. 

“Well, I know a Stark, well knew her.”

“You know Sansa Stark?” Brienne furrowed her brow, wondering how this young man would have possibly crossed paths with the elder of Catelyn’s daughters. 

“Not her.” He shook his head. “Never heard o’ Sansa. The other one. Ayra.”

Brienne titled her chin up, narrowed her eyes. Arya had not been heard of since her father’s execution. Everyone, including Jaime, assumed her dead. “You know Arya Stark?”

The cook nodded. “I… traveled with her some, mostly back in the midwest and such places, ‘fore comin’ here.” Seeing their attention, the teen stepped closer and continued. “She was goin’ by a different name, and wearing boys clothes, but it were Arya Stark.”

Arya was alive. Brienne tried to steady her excitement. What had the girl been doing in the midwest, and who had she been traveling with that would have included this greasy looking teen. “Do you know where she might be now?” Brienne asked. 

The teen shook his head. “Parted with her… maybe two months back. She didn’t say exact where she was headed. If she… well if she was on her own, she’d head back to family, I suppose.” He shrugged a pudgy shoulder. 

Brienne nodded, lips tightened. She did not like the thought of who Arya might have run into, or the threats a girl might face alone. “Such as her half brother?”

“She’d be goin’ right into all the fightin’ if she tracked him down, wouldn’t she?” He frowned, shook his head. “Don’t think she’d want to do that.” He shrugged again. 

Perhaps Podrick did have something about going to California. Walled off from much of the rest of the US and territories once in the US it was largely a safe place. “Thank you for your assistance,” Brienne said. 

The cook bobbed his head. “If you do find her, Ayra, hopefully she’s doin’ good, and tell her hi, from me, Hotpie.” He gave a smile showing off dimples in his chubby cheeks. 

Brienne nodded again. “Hopefully she is safe, and we will pass along your well wishes.”

Podrick had finished loading up and closing the back of the jeep as she and Hotpie had talked. Brienne got into the jeep’s driver’s side and shut the door. “Thank you,” she said through the open window. 

The teen cook dipped his head, before stepping back to allow the jeep to leave. Arya Stark was alive and Brienne felt better that she could find at least one of Senator Catelyn’s daughters and protect them until getting them to somewhere safe in this world. She raised an eyebrow at Podrick as they pulled back onto the highway. “And you said it was not a good idea asking about Sansa.”

Podrick shrugged. “Might’ve been wrong,” he allowed. Brienne tightened her lips to keep the smirk from her face. 

#

Less than a half hour into the international flight and Bronn was already snoozing away in the seat beside Jaime. They were riding coach and it was a tight fit. Jaime had looked over the offered movies and just didn’t feel like watching any of them. He peered out the window at the clouds below. It was gonna be a long flight. 

He glanced at the flight tracker on the tiny video screen. Their pathway to Paris left a lot of miles and hours yet to fly. He cocked his head, that was Maine, below them, that the little plane icon blinked on. He craned his neck to check out the window again. The cloud cover had cleared a bit, ocean gleamed below the land much too far below to tell much of anything but greens and grays. That was the ocean that Brienne had grown up on, the one she had spoken fondly of. It made him feel a connection to her even as he flew above the Earth far from her and wherever her adventure to find the Stark girls might be taking her. Maybe if he ever saw her again he’d ask if she’d take him to Maine, show him around. That might be nice, a vacation from the damn politics and family fighting. Jaime found himself smiling at the glinting blue below.


	5. coffee shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retelling of the Winterfell scene where Jaime asks to serve under Brienne. 
> 
> Jaime cupped his coffee, letting the steam warm his face, and the bitter drink warm his belly. He hated everything about the north, but he is where the real enemy was and thus Jaime himself. An enemy big enough Texas and the Lannisters should care about it, even if he had not been able to convince them of such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catching up on posting JB Week bits here on AO3. The last half needed further sitting and editing, or writing. 
> 
> The drabble prompt was coffee shop, but I had already written a coffee shop ficlet for these two, so ended up with this one instead.

While the Starkest called this a ‘coffee shop’ it was really just a secluded corner of a large hanger. The portable heater did little to actually take the chill from the air. Maybe in Texas fall was still present, full of brilliantly colored hillsides. Here in North Dakota it was already cold, frosted grass in the mornings, only a few leaves hanging to almost bare branches. 

“It is really not so bad,” Brienne said, perhaps in reply to Jaime’s likely sour expression. 

He cupped his coffee, letting the steam warm his face, and the bitter drink warm his belly. He scoffed. He hated everything about the north, but he is where the real enemy was and thus Jaime himself. An enemy big enough Texas and the Lannisters should care about it, even if he had not been able to convince them of such. 

“Not sure I buy it,” he said. 

Brienne frowned into her coffee, took a tentative sip. It was her words that had brought him here, too far north, to the too damn cold. Oh, Sansa Stark and Jon Snow had both given good evidence in the council meeting about the threat in the north, but, it had been Brienne’s words that had swayed him, her earnest face, her solid, steady and honest voice. If she believed in this terror in the north, if she knew it to be a noble fight worth throwing their lives away for, how could Jaime have turned away? ‘Fuck loyalty,’ indeed. 

The hanger did little to not echo back every sound outside the 'coffee shop', ruining any perceived impression of finding quiet and relaxation with your cup of joe. Machinery rumbled in the background. Voices yelled orders. The means of defense readied itself all around them. “I hear they have given you a company of your own,” he said.

She nodded, gave a small smile. He was proud of her, that she had found herself, even if amongst the Starkests, that she had proven herself to be as able as he knew capable. “Company B, we’re to protect the northwestern wall of the base. They need work, better order, but hopefully there’s time to do such.”

“Sure you’ll make them into a good company.” He gave a small smile. He’d seen what they called troops here, mainly farmers, oil field workers, a few office workers, people who knew nothing about gunfights or military order. Still, if someone could get them to work as a fighting team, he had faith Brienne’s kind yet firm hand could. 

“Have you given a thought to what… where...” She scowled as words failed her. 

Oh, they called him Colonel Lannister, but his forces had been left in Texas. He had too much gray hair, too much past trauma, and his lame hand. Truth was he wasn’t much real use to the cause. He sighed, took another sip of his coffee, the cold leaking from it like his bravado the farther north he’d traveled. 

“Could you use another man in your company?” he asked. The old Jaime Lannister would have never lowered himself to being a grunt in another’s forces, but that cocky bastard had been leaking from him for years, ever since he’d meet Brienne. “I’m not as good as I once was,” he added, voice quiet for her ears alone over the sounds of war around them, “but it would be my honor to serve under you.”

Brienne nodded, her lips tightened, brow softened, her eyes glittering. “Of course, Jaime,” she finally managed, soft and breathy. 

She looked so touched, honored, that Jaime wanted to kiss her. He swallowed, because that wasn’t what he’d come for. His feelings of Cersei, of Brienne, of whatever shitshow his life had become, were a jumble, and he wasn’t going to have Brienne shoulder them as she likely gladly would. He nodded and smiled instead. “Good,” he replied before he threw his attention back into his cooling coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have actually been at a base that had refit an old hanger as a rec area. Large, metal buildings in winter do tend to be chilly, although warmer and much less snowy than outside.


	6. Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snowed in during the battle of Winterfell, Jaime and Brienne share a story with others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a modified retelling of the bit before the knighting scene from season 8. Brienne already has rank and respect in this AU, so I didn't see how I could fit in something similar to an actual knighting. Modern military just does not really have the same, aside from earning some ranks, which still fall short.

Jaime stamped his feet, hoping to get a bit of feeling back into them. He knew it was cold in the north, but didn’t think he’d ever get used to the layers, to the gloves, to how he never felt really warm. He’d never belittle a hot, humid summer day of dripping sweat again after this. 

And the snow. He had always thought snow and snow days were fun. If he never saw the damned cursed stuff again it might be too soon. There were snow piles around base the height of two men. It fell in inches, at least, every night and no one blinked an eye to it, just shoveled and plowed and went right on working. 

Jaime blinked up at the falling flakes, white heavy flakes coming down thick enough they blurred his vision. The sky above was a light gray and the world too white. 

“It’s coming down too fast,” Brienne said beside him. She paused and rested against her shovel, blew on her gloved hand. Her cheeks were rosy and her thick hat covered in flakes. “Not even the plows will be able to keep up with this heavy snow for long.” She sighed. Being from Maine, she didn’t blink much in this weather.

Jaime paused himself. Shoveling wasn’t an easy task with his lame hand, not that anything was easy in these thick gloves. “Maybe we should get inside.” Not that inside would be much warmer than here. Too much of the base had been quickly built of pods and prefab metal buildings, no thick enough to withstand the cold of this winter. “Hot chocolate? Movie marathon?” He cocked his head, his breath puffing out between them. 

She huffed out a foggy breath. 

“What enemy is coming in this?” Jaime added. They could barely see, certainly the enemy could barely see too. He cocked his head, waited. 

Brienne tightened her lips, but nodded. “Might as well wait a bit, hopefully it will lighten back up.” 

They made their way to a door, the snow drifts up to their knees. Inside they found a space heater with benches around it and began to take off a few layers, outer gloves and hats and scarfs. The wind rattled the metal of the prefab, leaked in through its seams. It reminded him of a week long rainstorm he and Brienne had sheltered in years ago, just after she had been sent to return him to Austin by Senator Catelyn Stark. 

Eventually others joined them, Tyrion, Davos, the old sailor who had been Stannis’ man and now aided Jon Snow, the ginger haired Canadian friend of Jon Snows and Podrick, of course. Tyrion had a flask of whiskey and they passed it around, sharing stories, trying not to think how high the snow might be when the wind finally died down. 

Tyrion took a sip of the whiskey, leaned forward. “And just how, Lieutenant Colonel Tarth, did you happen to meet my dashing brother?” 

Brienne tightened her lips, lifted her chin, did not reply. 

“I was her captive… prisoner,” Jaime answered.

“The late Senator Catelyn had tasked me to take him to Austin, in exchange for her daughters,” Brienne finished. 

“Ah, and so began your adventures through the Appalachians.” Tyrion gave a crocked smile, which Brienne frowned at. “Come, there must be some tales from your adventures?”

She hadn’t trusted Jaime at first, bristly and wary. Then they’d been captured by Locke and his rough lot. He’d saved her from rape, and earned himself a good beating for it. She’d convinced him not to give up and earned his undying trust. Years later and the trauma still lingered there, always too close to the surface. Jaime noticed Brienne’s back straighten and knew it was the same for her.

“You should tell him about the wolf,” Jaime said, drawing Brienne’s brilliant blue eyes to him.

“I am sure it was not a wolf,” Brienne corrected. “A german shepherd perhaps.”

“Big, mean and with teeth. A wolf sounds better.” Jaime nodded. 

“A wolf?” The ginger cocked his head, paused his own big flask of homemade hooch in the air. “Tell us the story of the wolf?” He gestured Brienne to continue with his hand. Tyrion leaned forward to hear better. Podrick looked on with wide eyes, clearly having not heard the tale either. 

Brienne turned to Jaime and frowned, for forever now whether it was or wasn’t a wolf it would be named such. 

“It was after we had parted ways, me headed to Austin,” Jaime began, eyes shifting to him. “For sport they’d locked her in a cage to fight the beast.”

“It was a dog,” Brienne corrected, her eyes on him as everyone else looked at her. “And I was not fighting it. I meant it no harm.”

Jaime still remembered it. The snarled mouth of sharp teeth, Brienne in a skimpy skin tight leotard that didn’t fit, blood dribbling down her calf from a bite, her with only a blanketed arm cover to protect herself from the mad fighting dog. 

They continued on, piece by piece the tale coming out between them, the truth likely somewhere in the middle of their memories. Perhaps he had been as crazy as Brienne claimed. He’d entered that cage with nothing but honorable courage, one good arm and perhaps hope that no one wanted to explain to his father his son being mauled to death by a dog. 

Podrick looked amused. Davos silently watched them. A slight smile tugged at Tyrion’s lips, perhaps he knew what a fool Jaime could be. When they finally reached the end, that they’d both, clearly, lived and that Jaime had demanded she go to Texas with him, the ginger broke out in laughter, deep, throw his head back laughter. 

“You got some cojones on you, don’t you cowboy,” the ginger said. “A big fucking lead pair of them.”

Brienne furrowed her brow. Jaime tightened his lips. He didn’t like the man, or his interest in Brienne and he wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the comment. 

“Injured, unarmed, a captive still yourself,” Davos said, “you saved the damsel from the wolf and then insisted you were taking her back to your castle.”

Tyrion pointed a finger at Davos. “Exactly.”

“It wasn’t like that at all.” Brienne shook her head, glanced at Jaime to fix it. 

Jaime gave a light chuckle, because the thought of knights rescuing damsels was so far from the truth of the blood and fear and danger than had actually happened. Yet… “Do you not want me to be your knight in shiny armor?” he asked Brienne with a smile. 

She pinched her lips, glared at him. “I need no knight in shiny armor,” she finally said with clenched teeth. 

“Of course you don’t,” he said. Yet, she had needed and allowed him to save her, more than once. Brienne meet his eyes, hers softened and her mouth relaxed. She was as remarkable as when he had rescued her from that raging dog, as when she had trekked him over mountains in route to Texas. 

Tyrion cleared his throat, brought Jaime’s attention back to the room. “Enough of wolves. Tormund,” he turned to the ginger, “tell us about this bear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I changed the bear to a dog. It just makes more sense as something that Locke would have available to him, and perhaps just as deadly and scary.


	7. Gift Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lantern cast shadows about the cramped room. “What if we don’t make it through this?” Jaime asked as he poured both of them a drink. Brienne was too tired for this, the thoughts or the conversation. 
> 
> “If something happened and I hadn’t told you… shown you… you’re… important to me.” Jaime fumbled through his words, so unsure, so unlike the Jaime Lannister Brienne thought she knew. 
> 
> **
> 
> Retelling of TBTWP, extended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a stretch for "gift exchange" but the rest of the day had been long night and together in the dark.

The lights flickered. Brienne frowned when they remained off. 

“Shittiest base ever,” Jaime said beside her. 

The walls of the narrow passageway had faded glow in the dark strips, but they moved mostly by memory. Her room would be two doors ahead, Jaime’s the one past it. “They did what they could in the time given,” she replied. She shouldn’t have been hurt by his words, they were not meant as such, yet she was exhausted, mentally spent. 

He gave a huff, perhaps at the emotion in her words. “Despite everything, it hasn’t fallen, yet.” For if it did fall, not only would their lives likely be forfeit, but what would hold the threat from rushing further south? 

They reached her room and Brienne entered her code key, fingers knowing the path even if she could not see the keys, and left Jaime with no goodbye or good night. They’d be back out on the wall soon enough, fighting together. 

She’d taken off a few layers, scrubbed the sweat off of at least her face, and was mindlessly watching an old comedy on her tablet, when a knock came at the door. Brienne opened it to find Jaime, lantern hung on his bad wrist, his good arm loaded with a bottle and two tin mugs. She cocked an eyebrow at him. His usual buzz cut had grown out and a thin beard covered his cheeks. He like others had been too busy for such things as haircuts. If Brienne admitted to herself, she preferred him this way, it reminded her of when she’d first met him. 

Jaime entered without actually asking to be invited in, and proceeded to unload his items onto her small desk, the only table-like thing. The lantern cast shadows about the cramped room. “What if we don’t make it through this?” Jaime asked as he poured both of them a drink. 

Brienne sighed. She was too tired for this, the thoughts or the conversation. “The tide seems to have shifted.” And it was true, slowly they beat back the Army of Darkness, slowly there seemed more of them than the enemy. If only they continued to hold the line and fight--

“The tide sure, but one stray bullet...” Jaime gave a half scowl as he handed her a drink. “From Tyrion, a bottle of red from actual France, best not ask how he smuggled it in.” He motioned for her to drink and took a big sip of his own wine. 

It had been too long drinking harder things: whiskey, vodka, the hooch that Tormund made. The wine tasted smooth and full on her tongue, just dry enough to be enjoyable. She took a second sip. 

“If I lost you…” Jaime took another long drink, let out a shaky sigh, furrowed his brow. 

“I don’t plan on dying.” Brienne swallowed, the emotions in his blue-green eyes too raw, grating on her already frayed nerves. 

“No one ever plans on dying in a conflict.” Jaime frowned, and he spoke the truth, the best armor and skills with a rifle did not protect you from one fateful bullet. “If something happened and I hadn’t told you… shown you… you’re… important to me.” He fumbled through his words, so unsure, so unlike the Jaime Lannister Brienne thought she knew. The last, not perhaps the full words he meant or felt. 

Whatever witty reply she might usually give, didn’t come. Jaime’s eyes held affection, adoration, and lust, Brienne realized, she had seen such before on a few others around the base. “You’re important to me too, Jaime,” she managed. 

He let out another sigh. “Curses, how do you get it so hot in here?” Before Brienne could answer, Jaime had unzipped and taken off his thick fleece sweater. Underneath was a tight-fitting heat-tech undershirt, black and tracing every inch of his fit chest. 

Brienne blinked. Her room was not exactly any hotter than most rooms. She had turned up the corner space heater when she’d arrived, hoping it would allow for better sleep in her off duty time. Despite gray in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes, his worry and anxiety made him look a teen

Jaime approached her and started fumbling with the straps at the top of her fleece undercoat. Brienne furrowed her brow, swallowed, looked at his face as he concentration on the top snap and zipper. ‘Show you,’ he had said, did he mean…? She knew Jaime was attracted to her, but somewhere down in Texas was Cersei and whatever emotions and connections he had to his step-sister had not been severed when he’d traveled north. And yet, here he stood before her, badly trying to… woe her. She took away his good hand and his maimed one fell to his side. He looked worried, scared. 

Brienne placed her own hand on the top of her zipper and slid it down. She shrugged out of the coat, leaving her in only a blue long sleeved undershirt, as tight fitting as his own. Her hands were steady and sure as she took the bottom and swept it over her head, leaving only a sports bra and her bare, too pale skin. 

Jaime let out a shaky sigh, swallowed, bit his lip. His own hands tugged off his undershirt. A tan still covered his muscled torso, a few scars adorned it. His gold and red Lannister dog tags hung between his pecs. 

Part of Brienne’s mind was shocked she might do this, be so bold as to consummate their relationship, another part of her, deep in her gut, desired this man too much to care what might happen after tonight. With hands steadier than she felt. removed her bra, leaving them both bare above the waist. Goosebumps rose upon her skin. 

They faced each other. Him almost a height with herself. “I’ve never…” Brienne frowned, suddenly self aware. 

Jaime nodded. “You heard me with Catelyn Stark, I’ve never been with anyone but Cersei. Doesn’t give me much experience either.”

Brienne nodded, tried to tell herself that Jaime wanted her and neither of their lack of experience mattered. Before she could think more on it, doubt herself or Jaime’s desires, he sprang to close the space between them and kissed her. His hand gripped her neck, curled through her hair. Her hand grabbed at the muscles in his bare back. Their lips clashed against each other and took away Brienne’s breath and any remaining doubts. 

#

Jaime didn’t know what he had expected being with Brienne would be like. There was a competitive streak to it, yet a gentleness, an equality. They couldn’t keep their hands and lips off each other. The rest of their clothing was quickly shed. Jaime rescued the condom he had from his pants. Davos had given it to him, with a wink and word on who knows when one might need one. 

They tumbled onto the cot, barely big enough for Brienne, much less the two of them. He sucked on one of her nipples and then the other as Brienne arched her back and gripped his shoulder. His hand went between her legs. He cursed that his left was not as good as his right, although Brienne seemed not to know or care. Nothing sounded better than her moaning his name as she fell apart in his hands. 

Jaime kissed and held her until her breath came steady again. Then she rolled him onto his back and kissed her way down his chest. Her large hand stroked his cock, steady and certain, like herself, before she took it into her mouth. There was no finesse to her movements, but Jaime didn’t care, his need and desires caused him to cum fast enough he seemed like a teenager. 

Two could play at this though. Jaime tugged her into a kiss, sloppy, tongue dueling, teeth clashing. He lightly bit at her neck and nipples, ran a tongue over every scar as he rolled atop her and kissed his way down her belly, along her inner thighs. They parted further to allow him to nuzzle against the soft, pale skin and then bury his nose in the thick golden curls between her legs. 

Brienne perched up on her elbows, furrowed her brow, until his tongue traveled up her slit and reached her clit. Her head lolled back, a moan escaped her lips. This at least his bad hand didn’t hamper him. She moaned and writhed, as her thighs parted further and her fist gripped what she could of his hair. Brienne was glorious, beautiful, his warrior maiden. He felt his desire raising again as he set to pleasing her with everything he had. Brienne peaked twice before he relented and pulled back. 

While she recovered, Jaime put on the condom, and wished he’d grabbed a few more from Davos. Brienne welcomed him with open arms and a deep kiss while he settled himself between her legs and slowly pushed his way inside. He felt like he had finally come home. 

They moved against each other, slow and cautious at first, then increasing their speed. Bodies slapped together, bare and sweaty. Brienne’s arms and legs enclosed him and Jaime was certain he wanted to be nowhere else in the world than here and now with her. They both finished too soon, their desperation too great. 

Afterwards, Jaime collapsed upon Brienne’s breast and she held him there, ran a lazy hand through his damp hair. Something in him felt complete and whole. Also, he would most certainly be finding more condoms because he meant to spend whatever chance he could doing that with Brienne again. 

Sleep finally took them, deep and restoring, even if the alarm came too soon. Jaime would have liked a repeat of the night before, but they needed to dress, grab a quick bite and get back to the fight. Brienne watched him as he struggled to get himself dressed. He lifted an eyebrow at her. 

“Last night was…,” she gave a deep content sigh, “wonderful.”

Jaime gave a half smile. “Yeah.” He nodded. 

“The cot’s not big enough,” Brienne said as she tied her boots and stood. 

“I can bring mine in here.” He shrugged into his coat, a bit warm now in the room. 

Brienne rolled her eyes but didn’t tell him no. “Come on. We’re going to be late.” She grabbed her own outercoat and held the door open for him. Last minute Jaime thought about how perhaps they should have left at separate times, made it less obvious where he had spent last night. Brienne strolled down the hall, now lit again, to the mess hall as if it didn’t matter, and Jaime finally relaxed, realizing that it didn’t really matter, that there was no real threat to people knowing about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorne is Paris, so the wine from France would be "Dornish". Also, hopefully this extended scene works and the shortened set up compared to the show. I like the idea of the Long Night being more than a night, and I think given a longer time of fighting together JB would have gotten to the sexing before a victory.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, JB week! And thank for some of the weather with hurricane Dorian for giving me to visual of being caught in a storm for this.


End file.
